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The Sigma Phi house always smelled like spilled beer mixed with way too much Febreze. Someone had thrown open the windows in the living room to “air it out,” but all it really did was let the cold October wind cut through the house and make their letter banners flutter. It was an hour or so before the party but the noise was already building, the brothers pre-gaming with cheap vodka and half-hearted beer pong.
Logan sat at the edge of the couch, sipping something bitter and nameless, pretending it didn’t burn. He was trying to keep his breathing even. Trying to remind himself that this was his place. His people. He’d been a part of this house for the past two years now, it should feel like home. And yet it didn’t.
If it did, maybe he’d live there by now. If it did, maybe he wouldn’t be rooming with his random roommate he met last year. If it did, maybe he could admit his random roommate from last year wasn’t just a roommate.
Then a voice cut through his thoughts.
“Yo, did anyone else see that post about that Delta Sigma dude coming out?” Benny asked from the kitchen, tossing a pretzel into his mouth like the conversation was casual, easy.
“Yeah,” someone across the room called back. “Total shocker, bro wore a pink suit to formal.”
Laughter.
Another voice chimed in, Jackson maybe? Logan wasn’t sure, he couldn’t look up. “Can you imagine if one of us came out? That’d be wild.”
“Only if it was Steve,” someone added. “You hear how much he talks about Hangman, from Top Gun? Man’s halfway to a pilot boyfriend already.”
More laughter. Loud and loose. Not cruel. Just enough to sting.
Steve flipped them off without heat, grinning. “Glen Powell is a godly man, okay? Not my fault.”
Logan chuckled, small and automatic, but his grip on his cup tightened. His heart did that thing it always did during conversations like this.
Speed up, then shrink.
Like it was trying to disappear into his ribs.
He told himself it didn’t matter. That they were joking. That this wasn’t about him.
Even though it was. Even though they didn’t know it was.
“Seriously though,” James said from the floor, spinning an empty bottle lazily between his fingers, “I don’t care what anyone says, I’d still be boys with someone if they were gay. As long as they weren’t, like… checking me out in the showers or some shit.”
Logan had to fight the disgusted expression that wanted to etch itself onto his face.
“Right?” someone added. “Like, do your thing, just don’t make it weird.”
You’d be the one making it weird, he thought.
Logan forced himself to laugh too. Because if he didn’t, they’d notice. And if they noticed…
He didn’t know what would happen.
But he knew it wouldn’t be good.
“Anyway,” Benny said, still smiling, “I feel like we’d know if someone in here was like, not straight. Right? You can tell with some dudes.”
“I mean… yeah,” someone said. “No offense, but it’s kinda obvious sometimes.”
Logan stared at the condensation gathering on the outside of his cup. Was it obvious? He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
His throat felt tight. His chest, worse.
He pictured Oscar. Tall, thoughtful, always a little quiet in crowds. The kind of person who never forced himself to fit in. Who Logan had shared a bed with last weekend. Who’d looked at him after with something soft and warm in his eyes and whispered, “ You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. ”
And now he was here, in this room full of laughter and off-handed jokes that they didn't even realize were offensive and guys who didn’t think they were saying anything wrong. And Logan had to be anyone but himself.
They didn’t know they were building a wall with every sentence. That each joke, each punchline, made Logan feel a little smaller. A little more trapped.
“Hey, Sarge,” James said, nudging his leg. “You good?”
Logan blinked, his colored eyes flicking up. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”
Thinking about Oscar.
“You’re always zoning out lately, man. What, you got a secret girlfriend or something?”
Laughter again, and Logan forced a grin. “Yeah, something like that.”
Technically not a lie. It was something like that. Just one minor change to one major word.
Girlfriend.
“Bring her tonight,” someone said. “Frat house charm, baby. Works every time.”
“Unless she’s into girls,” another voice said, snickering. “In which case… call me.”
They roared at that one. Logan felt a pit grow in his stomach instead.
He stood up. “I’m gonna go grab more beer from the back.”
No one stopped him. They never did.
He ducked into the kitchen, opened the fridge even though he didn’t need to. The cold air hit his face and he leaned into it, breathing slow. In through his nose. Out through his mouth.
He wasn’t even mad at them. That was the worst part.
They weren’t trying to be cruel. They didn’t even realize this space wasn’t safe. Not for him. Not for anyone like him.
It was just banter, he told himself. Brotherhood .
Except it made Logan feel like he was holding his breath all the time.
The fridge light flickered. He let it shut, and leaned back against the counter, pressing his fingers hard into the edge.
He thought about texting Oscar.
Thought about taking back his invite to the frat party. About saying don’t come. About saying I can’t be what you need me to be here.
If Logan wasn’t safe here, Oscar wasn’t safe here.
Instead, he poured himself another drink.
-
The living room was already too loud.
Some guy from another fraternity was on aux, blasting something bass heavy and brainless, and the air stank of sweat, cheap cologne, and anticipation. Red solo cups littered the table like party confetti. Logan leaned against the wall near the kitchen, solo cup in hand, trying to pretend he was relaxed.
He wasn’t.
He was waiting for Oscar, scanning the room for him.
Oscar wasn’t a frat guy. He wasn’t like them. And Logan didn’t care, except when he had to. Except when he stood in rooms like this, with guys he was supposed to be loyal to, laughing at things that made his stomach twist.
He forced a smile as his brothers went on about that kid from Delta Sigma, sipping his drink instead. Didn’t want to be the guy who made it weird. The guy who couldn’t take a joke.
“Hey, Logan,” one of the pledges piped up from the couch, grinning, “you room with that international kid, right? The Aussie?”
Oscar.
Logan’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Oscar.”
“There’s something about him,” another brother snorted. “No offense, but he kinda gives off… y’know, flair .”
“Yeah, wouldn’t be shocked if he was into dudes.”
“Maybe he and Logan cuddle when it gets cold.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with a little bromantic cuddling, right, Sarge?”
The laughter erupted again.
Logan grinned.
He grinned because he had to. Because not laughing would say more than anything else. He even raised his cup like he was in on it. Like it didn’t hurt. Like his cheeks weren’t burning for all the wrong reasons.
“Right,” he said. “Cold nights, man.”
The boys howled.
Someone clapped him on the back. “All good fun, bro. You know we’d still love you even if you were into dudes. You’d just have to stay the hell out of our showers.”
More laughter.
Logan laughed, too.
And then excused himself to the kitchen to “check the kegs,” even though he knew that was the pledge's job. He just needed to get away from them.
He found his way into the kitchen, shouldering through groups of people to get to the island in the middle of the room.
He leaned against the counter, his knuckles white around the plastic rim. He told himself they were just jokes. Just the way things were in Sigma Phi and they didn’t mean anything by it.
But it didn’t matter what they meant. What mattered was how it felt.
Like a warning.
Like a door slamming shut.
Like a reminder that some things were only allowed behind closed doors.
Like Oscar.
Oscar, who would be here soon. Oscar, who Logan had kissed last night with shaking hands and a desperate kind of softness. Oscar, who had held him like a secret he wanted to protect, not hide.
And now he was coming into a house that would rip him apart if he showed even an iota of weakness .
Logan downed the rest of his drink.
Poured another.
Didn’t taste it.
He needed to quiet the part of himself that wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up. He needed to laugh along and blend in and survive this party without giving himself away.
Because if he didn’t, they’d know.
And if they knew… he wasn’t sure who he’d be after.
-
“You awake?” Logan’s voice was groggy, low. He was still half-buried in his pillow, hair sticking up in five different directions.
“Yeah,” Oscar said softly, turning toward him. He reached out and lightly smoothed down his hair, his fingers lingering with the strands in between his fingers.
They were facing each other, the stretch of twin bed between them small enough that their knees brushed under the blanket.
Logan blinked slowly, like it hurt to be awake. “There’s a party tonight.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “What, another one?”
Logan shrugged. “Yeah. At the frat house.”
Oscar didn’t say anything right away. Just watched Logan fidget with the corner of the blanket.
“I was thinking maybe you could come this time,” Logan added a little too fast, like he didn’t want to give himself the chance to back out of the offer.
Oscar studied him, eyes steady. “You want me there?”
Logan looked up, his voice quieter when he said, “Yeah. I do.”
Oscar didn’t answer immediately. He was silent long enough that Logan’s expression began to shift, something cautious creeping in.
“I’ll go,” Oscar said finally, voice soft. Then, almost under his breath, “I just wish I could go with you. Like… with you.”
There it was. That sharp, weightless pause between them.
Logan’s eyes flicked down. “You know we can’t.”
“I know.” Oscar nodded, his throat tight.
Logan reached out and caught Oscar’s hand under the blanket. Their fingers interlaced instinctively, like muscle memory.
“Sometimes I wish you didn’t care what they thought.”
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t either.”
-
The Sigma Phi house was already pulsing with noise when Oscar stepped out of the rideshare and onto the uneven walkway. Lights flashed through the windows, blue and gold from a strobe someone had hung in the living room. From outside, it sounded like the floorboards were screaming.
He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt and took a slow breath.
He’d never liked frat houses. They just weren’t his scene. Always too loud, too crowded. But Logan had asked in that half-casual, half-hopeful voice he used when he didn’t want to seem like he was asking for anything at all.
So of course, Oscar said yes.
He walked up to the path and checked in at the door. Logan had filled him in on what to do when he got there.
Girl’s got in free, guys usually didn’t get in at all unless they were invited by a brother. Just tell the guy working the door that Logan invited him and if he didn’t believe him, show him the text Logan had sent just in case.
Luckily, he didn’t need to pull out his phone. When Oscar told the brother his name, he immediately let him in with a nod.
Warm air hit him instantly. The pounding music, sweat in the air, voices layered on top of each other. People spilled between rooms, holding cups, shouting half-jokes over the chaos. No one looked at him twice.
He scanned the room, automatically. For Logan.
And then, there he was.
Logan saw him instantly. The moment that Oscar stepped into the house, Logan’s eyes flicked over to him like he could just sense his presence.
He was in conversation with Marcus, the alcohol already buzzing in his veins, when he looked up and locked eyes with Oscar across the room. It was instinct, like muscle memory. He straightened, smiled without thinking, and took a step forward before he caught himself.
No. Not here.
He didn’t slow down, but he changed direction, he curved his path like it was casual. Like it meant nothing.
“Hey,” Oscar said quietly as Logan reached him near the drinks table. His voice didn’t carry, it never did but Logan heard it anyway.
“You came.”
“You invited me.”
“Still… thanks.”
Oscar smiled, but his eyes searched Logan’s face, cautious. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Too quick. “Fine.”
Oscar glanced toward the crowd, where Marcus and James were already shouting about flip cup and someone was climbing onto a table. “I can leave if you want.”
“No,” Logan said immediately. “Stay. Please.”
Oscar’s mouth pressed into a small, unreadable line. “Alright.”
Someone jostled Logan from behind and he stepped closer without thinking, shoulder bumping Oscar’s. Familiar. Automatic. Too much.
Logan pulled back half a step.
Oscar noticed. Of course he did. But he didn’t say anything.
Just then, Jackson wandered over, holding two beers and a dumb, crooked grin.
“Yo, Sarge,” he called, handing one to Logan. “You’re behind, man.”
“Working on it,” Logan said, taking the beer.
Jackson looked at Oscar, then back at Logan. “Is this the Aussie?”
Oscar gave a small nod. “Oscar.”
“Right. Sarge’s roommate.” Jackson’s gaze flicked between them once, twice. “You’re, like… around a lot lately, huh?”
“Guess so,” Oscar said, polite but distant.
Jackson squinted, clearly not drunk enough to miss details. “You two just roommates, or what?”
There was a beat.
A tiny pause.
It wasn’t the question, not really. It was the tone. The edge to it. The kind of thing said with a smile but laced with suggestion.
Oscar stayed quiet.
And Logan didn’t even blink.
“We’re roommates,” he snapped. “What else would we be?”
Jackson raised his eyebrows, clearly caught off guard by the sudden sharpness.
“Chill, man. Was just asking.”
“Well don’t.”
Oscar shifted beside him.
Jackson held up both hands. “Okay. Damn.”
He wandered off, muttering something under his breath, but Logan didn’t hear it. He could feel Oscar staring at him.
“You alright?” Oscar asked, soft.
“Fine,” Logan said again, too fast, too practiced. “Just didn’t like his tone.”
Oscar looked at him for a long moment. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”
Logan’s jaw was tight. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You answered like it did.”
The music pulsed louder. Someone popped open a can in the kitchen.
Logan looked away. “You should grab a drink or something.”
“I don’t drink Logan, you know that.” Oscar didn’t move. “Are you embarrassed? Seriously, I can go.”
That landed like a punch. Not because it was cruel, but because it was close.
Logan swallowed. “Don’t do this here.”
“I’m not trying to start anything.”
“Well, it sounds like you are.”
Oscar held up a hand. “Okay. Sorry.”
Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair and taking a sip of the beer, downing it like he needed it to breathe. “No. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want them getting ideas.”
“Ideas?” Oscar echoed, flat.
“You know what I mean.”
Oscar stepped back slightly. Not a big move. Not dramatic. Just enough to feel like distance.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think I do.”
And Logan hated that look on his face. Hated that it was familiar, like Oscar had already braced for disappointment and only needed it confirmed.
Logan reached for him. Didn’t touch, but reached. “Hey—”
Oscar shook his head, not unkind. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just… go play whatever game they’re yelling about. I’ll hang back.”
Logan opened his mouth to argue. Closed it again.
Instead, he nodded, and turned away.
Oscar watched him go, debating on if he should just leave. But he didn’t. He usually didn’t linger around the fraternity version of Logan, it wasn’t the boy that Oscar knew, but something in him told him to stay.
The Australian found a drink that was non-alcoholic and leaned against the wooden paneled walls, his eyes scanning the room and occasionally landing on Logan, who was playing flip cup and laughing like nothing mattered.
It made Oscar’s stomach churn, so he went out onto the back porch and sat down.
He was so lost in his thoughts that it startled him when someone sat down on the porch step beside him.
Ethan.
One of Logan’s frat brothers. Tall. Easy smile. One of the chill ones, if Oscar had to rank them.
“Cold out,” Ethan said, settling beside him like they’d done this a hundred times.
Oscar glanced at him. “Yeah.”
They sat in silence for a beat. Ethan cracked open a soda can and took a sip. No beer. No posturing.
“You’re Logan’s roommate, right?”
Oscar’s spine straightened slightly. “Yeah.”
“Cool. I’ve seen you around. You don’t really hang much with us.”
Oscar shrugged. “I’m not really a frat guy.”
“Awe, c’mon, but we’re so fun.” Ethan grinned, no bite to it.
Oscar gave a small smile in return. “Yeah… fun .”
Ethan didn’t look at him. Just stared straight ahead, out at the dark lawn and the way the porch light hit the grass in scattered patches.
“Earlier,” he said. “That thing with Jackson. The way Logan jumped in.”
Oscar went very still.
Ethan tilted his head. “Logan got pretty defensive.”
Oscar’s jaw tensed. “He didn’t mean to.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
Oscar looked at him properly now. Ethan’s expression was open. Easy. Not accusing. Not prying. Just… observant.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Oscar said.
Ethan shrugged. “I’ve known Logan for two years. You pick up on stuff. The way he disappears early from brotherhood nights. The way he lights up when you text. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching.”
Oscar’s heart did something complicated.
“I’m not judging,” Ethan added quickly. “I just think sometimes people carry stuff like it’s going to break the whole world if someone sees it. But most of us? We’d rather someone just be honest than miserable.”
Oscar blinked. “You really think that?”
Ethan nodded. “Look, I’m not saying the whole house is perfect. Some of the guys? They’ve got growing up to do. But not all of us are assholes.”
Oscar gave a half-smile. “That’s a low bar.”
“I’m just saying,” Ethan said, smiling too now, “if something is going on, you’ve got at least one person who won’t make it a thing.”
Oscar studied him, trying to read between the lines. There was no edge to it. No subtext. Just… a guy who saw more than most and didn’t seem scared of any of it.
“Thanks,” Oscar said, voice quieter than before. “That means more than you know.”
Ethan gave a little nod, then pushed off the wall. “You should tell him.”
Oscar frowned. “Tell him what?”
“That he’s allowed to breathe. Even here.”
Oscar didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could.
Ethan hesitated a second longer, then said, “You’re good for him, by the way.”
Oscar’s chest pulled tight. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
Then Ethan turned and walked back toward the noise, disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a reply.
Oscar didn’t leave his spot, sat on the porch where the music was softer and the air didn’t feel like it was pressing in on his chest.
He’d been there a while, ever since Ethan had left after quietly shattering his expectations of what the Sigma house could be. Still, the anxiety hadn’t left. Not fully.
Not until he heard the sliding door open behind him and the sound of someone stumbling down the step.
“‘Scuse me—shit,” Logan mumbled, catching himself on the railing, beer sloshing in his cup.
Oscar turned. “Logan—”
“There you are,” Logan said, grinning in that loose, soft way that meant he was drunk. His eyes lit up like seeing Oscar made the world make sense again.
Oscar stood slowly. “You okay?”
Logan nodded far too quickly. “Better now.”
He walked toward him, almost too fast, arms out like gravity had finally won. He nearly spilled his drink over Oscar’s shoes in the process.
Oscar started to talk again, but Logan shook his head.
“You weren’t inside,” Logan muttered. “I didn’t want to be there if you weren’t.”
Oscar’s eyes softened. “Logan…”
“I hate it,” Logan said suddenly. “All of it. The pretending. The laughing. The bullshit. I hate that I’m scared all the time. I hate that I look at you and think about who’s watching. I hate that you think I don’t like you sometimes.”
Oscar blinked slowly. “You don’t have to do this right now-”
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” Logan cut him off again, like he couldn’t get the words out quick enough. “I know what I said, I know what I’m supposed to say. But none of that matters when I can’t stop thinking about you all night and you’re out here alone and I just—”
And then he kissed him.
There was no hesitation. No glance over the shoulder. Just hands in Oscar’s collar and lips against his like it had already been decided.
Oscar froze for a second. Not because he didn’t want it. But because Logan never did this here.
But he kissed back. Because of course he did.
When they pulled away from each other, eyes wide and breathing heavy with words unspoken, Oscar was still trying to find the words when a voice behind them broke the moment.
“Well, shit.”
Logan jolted, stumbling back from Oscar like he’d been burned. His eyes snapped toward the edge of the porch where a guy in a Kappa sweatshirt stood, half-drunk beer in hand, smirking like he’d just caught something scandalous on camera.
“What the fuck was that?” The guy said, laughing.
Oscar took a step forward, his voice steady. “Walk away.”
But he didn’t. He grinned wider, swaying slightly. “Nah, I think the whole house should hear this. Sargeant’s got a boyfriend. That’s good stuff.”
“You need to go,” Oscar said, sharper now.
The guy opened his mouth again, and that’s when the back door slammed open.
Ethan.
Then Marcus. Then Jackson. Then two more Sigma Phi members, flooding out like backup summoned by instinct.
“What the hell’s going on?” Marcus asked, already moving forward.
Oscar stepped back as Logan froze, heart hammering so loud he could barely think.
The Kappa dude gestured like he was presenting a show. “Your golden boy’s out here making out with his roommate. Thought you’d wanna know.”
There was a beat. A pause thick enough to choke on.
Then Ethan said, voice calm but firm, “Yeah? So?”
Kappa Guy blinked. “So… so nothing, I guess. Just didn’t know you were running that kind of chapter.”
Jackson scoffed. “You came all the way out here to talk shit about something that doesn’t matter?”
“It’s not even your house,” Marcus added. “Don’t you have a Natty Light to cry into or something?”
Ethan stepped closer, arms folded. “Get out.”
The guy hesitated. Looked between Logan and the others like he couldn’t quite compute what was happening.
“I’m serious,” Ethan said. “Leave.”
And finally, muttering under his breath, the guy turned and walked off into the night.
Silence fell again.
Logan didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Then Jackson said, casually, “So… you and the Aussie?”
Logan’s mouth was dry. “I—yeah.”
He waited for the jokes. The laughter. The shift.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “Cool.”
Ethan smiled. “About time.”
And Jackson? He just nodded and said, “You guys want us to grab you another drink or are you good out here?”
Logan blinked. “You’re not… weird about it?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Bro, we’ve known you for two years. Half of us already assumed.”
“You’ve been miserable for months,” Ethan said. “We figured it wasn’t about midterms.”
Jackson shrugged nonchalantly. “Honestly, I had no idea. But maybe I just wasn’t looking.”
“Yeah, dude,” Marcus laughed, shaking his head, “you weren’t.”
Oscar looked over at Logan, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The kind of smile that he never used to show around Logan’s frat brothers because he wasn’t sure he was supposed to.
And for once, Logan smiled back.
“I… was not expecting you guys to do that .” He confessed, his eyes reluctantly shifting back to his friends.
Jackson threw an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “Look, man. You’re our brother. That doesn’t change because of who you love.” He ruffled his hair, his smile wide and messy. He was drunk obviously, but he was being sincere.
Ethan added, “But if anyone else tries to pull what that Kappa guy just did, we’ll handle it.”
And for the first time in what felt like months, Logan let himself believe it.
That he didn’t have to hold his breath anymore.
That being seen didn’t have to mean being hated.
That maybe, just maybe, he was safe here. Which means Oscar was safe here.
Oscar.
He turned back to Oscar, who was watching all of it with careful eyes and that smile. That damn smile.
“Come inside?” Logan asked.
Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”
And Logan, with his heart pounding and hands still shaking, took Oscar’s hand. In front of everyone.
No one said a word.
Because why would they?
They just walked in behind them, like nothing had changed.
But for Logan, everything had.